Despite our, shall we say, harrowing first encounter, our noble band of heroes continued the assault on the Thistletop Depths. Notably, we were joined by another new companion, a wizard by the name of Teodoros. Alden vouched for him, probably knew him from some previous crusade. While I take no formal issue with the group’s new Iomedaean majority, I refuse to hold hands and sing O Glorious Inheritor of Light. A Dwarf must maintain his principles.
Our continued assault brought us to yet another accursed temple of Lamashtu. Poor Marcus nearly became food for some manner of devil dog. (Barghests, hellhounds, and yeth hounds, they’re all black, all shaggy. I can’t be arsed to tell the difference.) We also ran into two of Nualia’s hired lackeys. The sellsword seemed like the sort of gent I could have a drink with, the elf witch not so much. Luckily for us they decided their pay wasn’t worth their lives and let us pass only lightly singed.
Our efforts brought us to what I presume is the lowest level of this mess, some ancient Thassalonian something-or-other dedicated to the Runelord of Greed. After avoiding a rather nasty trap and exploring a few rooms full of magical claptrap, we found ourselves in front of a rather imposing door. The only thing I can find myself thinking is that something down here must have made those claw marks at the beginning of these ruins. Something big.